coastal sandbags
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Barbs and release included, batteries not. Plotless Castiel/Nathaniel slash for xXmini-chibiXx. Crappy, slippery crap. My apologies.


**Author's Note: For xXmini-chibiXx, who wanted some Cas/Nath. So here's this. It's all disjoined and drabble-babble kind of nonsense setup. Hope it suffices, sorry it's all crap and whatnot. Disjointed, bland, mediocre crap.** **Sorry it took so long too, dude. I'm all busy, useless filth.** **Feel free to request something else in compensation if this just like, reaches unacceptable levels of crap.**

 **Pervyness and whatnot ahead.**

* * *

Nathaniel tips his head back as Castiel's tongue flickers over his throat, one set of fingers curling in the sheets while the other tangles in scarlet threads and yanks. Castiel grunts and nips at his collarbone, squeezing his hips. He lowers his head and licks down to Nathaniel's navel.

Nathaniel gives his hair another rough pull to urge him on, wildfire thrumming through his blood. To his immense displeasure, Castiel stops abruptly and lets go of him, raising his head.

"I can't do it."

"What? Why not?"

"She's staring." Castiel jerks his thumb toward White. She's curled up in a cute little ball on the dresser, little head cocked and big blue eyes blinking at them.

Nathaniel scowls. "Don't be ridiculous. She's a cat, it's not like she's being a voyeur!"

"It's still really weird." Castiel's brows pinch together irritably. "It's killing my boner."

And the fact that he said that kills Nathaniel's. He snorts and shoves him off, sitting up. "Then put your clothes back on. Go home."

It's not like he's good for anything else.

.

"Ahh— Watch your teeth!"

Duly noted. Nathaniel glances up to him and carries on.

Castiel heaves a breath, fingers snagging Nathaniel's hair as sweat rolls down his cherry-flushed cheeks.

"Teeth, Nat, teeth!" he warns again, glowering at him.

Nathaniel opens his mouth a little wider and and attempts to be careful, pressing his tongue to the underside as he bobs his head.

He is apparently unsuccessful.

"What's wrong with you?" Castiel tugs so hard his scalp throbs. "You're supposed to suck it, not eat it!"

Nathaniel glares up at him and slides his mouth off, spitting on the locker room floor. He's never liked doing it in here anyway.

"Take care of it yourself," he snaps, standing up.

He whisks around and goes back to the courtyard, leaving Castiel sputtering.

.

Nathaniel takes his gloves off and shoves them in his duffle bag, grabbing his water bottle. He crudely twists the cap and yanks it free, dousing his face and gulping whatever makes it into his open mouth.

"You're not too bad, Mr. President."

Nathaniel raises his head, slides a glance to see Castiel propped against the doorway of the gym's locker room, arms crossed.

"You watched my match?"

"Yeah."

Which makes Nathaniel all the more satisfied that he'd won. Not without taking any hits though. A twinge ripples through his ribs as he leans down to pack the rest of his things away and he barely keeps from wincing.

"Of course, if it was a _real_ fight between you and me, I'd kick your ass." Castiel peels himself off the wall and lightly smacks his behind. But his hands linger and then he's leaning in, presence hot and teeth grazing the nape of Nathaniel's neck.

Nathaniel curls his lip and tosses his bag over his shoulder. "Save that for later. You know how I feel about public places."

"Way to be a buzzkill," Castiel grunts.

But even later, back at the mouth of Castiel's messy bedroom, Nathaniel still doesn't feel like it. He's sore and exhausted. He should've made up an excuse and asked to get dropped off.

"I'm...Sort of tired," he admits uncertainly, feeling the pink of embarrassment creep into his cheeks.

Castiel lowers the hem of his shirt. "Oh...Eh, y'know what? I'm pretty tired too. I had band practice and Demon got away from me again, so getting him back was this long adventure..."

Nathaniel blinks, surprised. "Oh...So you're gonna run me back home?"

"Hell no. I'm not your chauffeur." Castiel snorts and brushes past him, heading to the living room. Nathaniel follows just because he doesn't know what else to do.

"You want to go home, you figure it out yourself." Castiel plops down on the couch. "I'm gonna watch a movie."

"What movie?"

" _Blood Raid 3: Return of the Lesbian Vampire Cult_."

Oh god. It's one of those stupid B movies with the asinine, nonsensical scripts, ridiculously exploitative carnage, and passionless, tepid acting.

Despite his aversion, Nathaniel finds himself climbing on the couch. He leans his head on Castiel's shoulder if only because Demon is using the only available throw pillow and it looks more comfortable than no substitute at all.

"The blood never looks like blood in any of these movies. It always looks like ketchup or barbecue sauce."

Castiel snickers. "That's part of the charm, Nat."

.

"So I gotta get my tooth ripped out on Saturday."

Nathaniel continues sorting files and gives a sniff. "That's hardly a surprise. You've been complaining about it for over a week."

Castiel doesn't take the bait. He blows a tired sigh out of his nose and cups the back of his neck. "Well I can't drive home all drugged up and I don't have anyone else to ask. Lys is gonna be visiting his parents and Iris has plans with Melody..."

Nathaniel raises a brow. "You asked Iris before me? She's a road hazard."

"Is that you saying yes?"

"Uh..." It's not really appealing. The procedure's going to hurt which means Castiel's going to be in bitch mode, and not the kind of bitch mode where he wants to fuck it out, which is the only kind Nathaniel cares to deal with...But he does owe it to him. "Yeah, sure."

Waiting rooms are filthy, germ infested places packed with loud people who have louder kids and this particular one smells like old toothpaste and synthetic bubblegum flavoring. Nathaniel waits anyway because leaving and coming back isn't worth it when the traffic is bumper to bumper and Castiel will throttle him if he wastes his gas.

It's only a couple hours but it feels like a couple of days when all the brats scared of the dentist screech like sirens, piercing holes through his patience. All the magazines are outdated and none hold particularly appealing content anyway, but Nathaniel learns a recipe for a lemon cake that he's never going to bake. He's more amused by the fact that there are recipes for desserts at a dentist's office.

Sneaky bastards trying to get more business.

He flips through some other magazines and unintentionally finds himself heartbroken over the destruction of the koala's habitat. He's just sworn to himself never to buy anything made from eucalyptus when Castiel suddenly nudges his shoulder.

Nathaniel lowers the magazine. "Done?"

"Yeah but I gotta...There's, there's this..." He holds out this small slip of paper that's been scrawled over with embarrassingly poor penmanship.

Nathaniel has to tilt his head and squint at it before it makes any sense. It's a prescription for antibiotics.

"Okay, we'll stop." He tosses the magazine on the table and gets up, stretching his arms toward the ceiling before making his way to the exit. Castiel lags behind, looking up and all around like something's floating overhead. He's out of it, thankfully not the giggly, babbling kind of out of it, but off on some different wavelength all the same.

Nathaniel snaps his fingers to get his attention and beckons to him like a dog. "This way, Castiel."

The redhead waddles after him like some wayward duckling. He's subdued and he doesn't say anything, but he starts fumbling for his cigarettes when they get to the car and Nathaniel has to slap him on the hand.

"No. You can't smoke yet, remember?"

"Oh...Right..."

He's in that weird, mellow state until the meds wear off and then bitch mode comes on in an instant, raging tempest even stronger than Nathaniel predicted.

"Having sex _is_ good for pain," Nathaniel tells him. "It releases en—"

"Fuck yourself!" His advice is rewarded with a pillow to the face whipped with such a force, it feels like a brick.

.

"You owe me a table." Nathaniel glares over the tipped ruins of furnished oak.

"It's not my fault," Castiel snaps.

"Yes it is," exclaims Nathaniel. "It was your idea!"

"Yeah, but you're the one who spread me out on it!"

"And I wouldn't have if you didn't have the idea to screw on the table in the first place! You owe me a table!"

Castiel throws his hands up. "It's not my fault you have shitty taste in furniture! Your table's fucking weak, mine held up tons of times!"

"It's not _my_ taste in furniture!" Nathaniel fumes, stomping a step closer. "It came with the apartment!"

"Then get the landlord to replace it!"

"No! It's not _her_ fault!"

"Well it's not mine either! I don't even know why you're freaking out about this, it's one leg! All you have to do is duct tape it back on!" Castiel takes a step closer and draws himself to his full height.

Nathaniel huffs, irascible heat flaring beneath his skin. He grabs Castiel by the throat and bites him on the lip, digging in until he tastes metal. Castiel shoves him back against the counter, a bloom of pain stinging his back. He pushes himself against Nathaniel, kissing him so hard their teeth clack and it's almost agonizing, but it's hardly ever satisfying if it's not.

Nathaniel grabs his cock in a rough fist and steps on his toes as he furiously sucks the skin over that jumping, blue jugular.

The rest of the chair's legs are broken before the night's even halfway through.

.

"Are you coming over tonight?"

Nathaniel stares out the window, distractedly cursing the bits of white fluff that carry on the breeze. Spring has sprung and pollen is spewing all over the place, the promise of new plants in every bumblebee's hum. The dandelions are especially irritating because those things are every-fucking-where.

He's triple-dosed on his allergy medication just because there's a whiff of pollen in every breath he takes...And maybe also because right now he likes the way the medicine makes it hard to think. He doesn't want to think right now.

"Nat?"

Right now everything is foggy, all puffy at the edges like the cottonwood in the air. Every thought processes like molasses so he can't think anything complicated, and that's good because there are too many complicated things to think about.

"I set White on fire."

"Hm?" Nathaniel sluggishly turns to Castiel.

"Man, what is with you today? It's like talking to a zombie."

Unfortunately the filter in his frontal lobe is also working like molasses. "It's my dad's birthday."

The indignation drops off Castiel's face. "Oh..."

"I thought about doing something I shouldn't." Nathaniel flicks the end of the pencil on the desk and languidly watches it spin.

"Oh?"

At this point his filter is all caught up and he does not elaborate.

"Well anyway, do you want to come over later?"

"I don't really feel like it. My allergies are acting up, I'm probably going to sleep as soon as I get home."

Castiel is quiet for a moment and then possibly quieter when he speaks. "Do you want me to come over? Not for that, just...I could take care of your cat or something. Since you're all dead on your feet."

The pencil stops spinning and Nathaniel tiredly drapes himself over the desk, gaze flickering up to Castiel's face. "Alright."

.

Nathaniel rolls over to the other side of the bed, panting thickly as the sweat drips into the scratches on his back. His hips throb and the sheets are uncomfortably sticking to him. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, damp locks sliding through his fingers.

He glimpses the clock on the nightstand and does a double-take, surprised. "It's later than I thought."

Castiel sits up and glances over, equally surprised. "Damn."

"I should go," Nathaniel says, but he doesn't get up. As late as it is, he isn't really inclined. Or maybe that's the problem, maybe it's too late.

He's tired and the bus stop is creepy and dark this late, crawling with drug dealers and ladies of the night.

"You don't have to," murmurs Castiel. "You can stay."

Nathaniel lets his shoulders sag. "I'll do that." He gets up and grabs a pillow, headed toward the couch.

Castiel grabs his wrist and gently tugs him back. "You can stay here. Just stick to that side of the bed, yeah? I don't want to cuddle with you."

"I'd sooner skinny dip with jellyfish." Nathaniel snorts and flops back down on the mattress.

"Ditto." Castiel turns out the light.


End file.
